


Anyone But Him

by LollipopCop



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley-centric (Good Omens), Crying, First Kiss, First Time, Heartbreak, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, Pining, Scene: The Bookshop Fire (Good Omens), Self-Loathing, Touch-Starved Crowley (Good Omens), Virgin Crowley (Good Omens), except that Aziraphale's body is left behind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-08-14 02:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20184883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LollipopCop/pseuds/LollipopCop
Summary: They weren't together, so really, Crowley had no right to feel absolutely heartbroken over witnessing Aziraphale having sex with a man, but there he was.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished a fic and yet 7,000 damn words poured out of me once I thought of this concept. Someone stop me.

This was what he got for snooping.

Crowley didn’t like the way things left off in the park. It wasn’t his fault, really. Aziraphale was the one who misunderstood and got all uppity, the bastard. _ Fraternizing. _He acted like they were doing something shameful, and Crowley hadn’t been able to take that. Aziraphale wasn’t the only one risking his neck in their friendship, which was the whole bloody point! Crowley knew he would be killed if Hell found out, which was why he needed insurance in case they ever came for him. Why was that so hard to understand? 

Crowley was so insulted by the _ fraternizing _ comment that he blew Aziraphale off with a lie driven by emotion. He didn’t actually have other people to fraternize with, not really. He wasn’t supposed to like humans to begin with, let alone form relationships with them. Besides, they would die eventually, and it would be a bad look for a demon to mourn. He couldn’t let himself get attached, but of fucking course he had to go get attached to an angel. Of course he did. God was still punishing him, wasn’t She? That was why Crowley dropped everything when he sensed he was in danger, and had to bite back a smile when his blue eyes sparkled as he droned on about books, and he found himself pitifully lonely after the fight. Why God had to make him, and only him out of all the other demons, capable of feelings softer than misery was a mystery. _ More like a sick joke. _

Crowley wasn’t going to sacrifice his pride enough to apologize, but he’d explain that he wanted the holy water to potentially kill an attacker, not himself. Aziraphale would understand that more, right? He had to. He was concerned with Crowley’s safety, so he might change his mind. It was two weeks later and Crowley heard Aziraphale joined a gentlemen’s club. He scoffed. What a ridiculous idea. As if that prim little prudish angel would be into that. Crowley knew what those clubs got up to—not that he ever joined in, but that was out of lack of interest more than anything else. Why would he let himself be vulnerable in front of a human? Bit risky. They would probably want him to remove his glasses, too, which was a big no. Someone getting horrified by his eyes was probably a mood killer. It was better for everyone if he stayed away from things like that. He wasn’t sure if he would even like sex. He felt desire before, but only for one, and the thought of doing anything with someone else was unappealing. Humans tended to be rather dirty, for one thing, and he didn’t want anyone else’s hands on him. No one touched him, in general. He didn’t let people get close and he tended to give off a vibe that turned people away. He was getting side-tracked. He didn’t have to justify why he didn’t fuck to his own mind. He wasn’t an incubus, so what he did or didn’t do was no one’s business but his own. 

But what the hell could Aziraphale be doing at a place like that? He had to see, and then find an opening to talk to him.

It was much easier for Crowley to transform into a snake in a nearby alley and then slither up to the window so he didn’t look like a creep. But then he had to hold back a cackle, because any passersby would be startled if a snake started laughing.

A dance. Aziraphale was doing a dance with some humans, beaming and having the time of his life.

Crowley was rolling his eyes, because obviously he was here because of something like a funny little dance. He should have known. He was also shoving a little wave of fondness away from the joy on Aziraphale’s face. He was too irked with their situation at the moment to be fond.

The dance ended, and Aziraphale turned to a couple men beside him, shook their hands, and kissed their cheeks.

Crowley blinked. Okay, well, that was weird. Kissing on the cheek was usually a greeting throughout human history, but the society they lived in was more repressed nowadays, and this wasn’t a greeting.

Aziraphale took one of the men by the hand and they were talking, but Crowley couldn’t possibly hear what they were saying. The nature of his smile changed, though, to something Crowley couldn’t recall seeing on his face before. Aziraphale was nodding, and then they started to walk hand-in-hand towards a door off to the side._ Where are you taking him, human? _

Crowley hissed low in his throat. Something about the way Aziraphale was looking at that human left him uneasy. They went into the room, shutting the door behind them, and Crowley had to see what they were doing. Besides, he needed to discuss the holy water.

Crowley liked being a serpent on the larger side to intimidate people, but now he shrunk down to the size of a small garden snake to fit under the front door. He slithered into the building, tongue flicking out to smell the air. It smelled like cologne. He discreetly slithered through the room, past the other men and to the door off to the side. He contemplated going in. Aziraphale would probably recognize him in his snake form, and he wanted to talk about the holy water in his human form. Being a snake would be a little absurd for a conversation like that. As he was thinking over what to do, he heard a sound of distress.

Alert, he strained his ears and realized the grunt came from Aziraphale. Oh, whoever that bastard was, he was about to get a sharp snake bite to the ankle! Maybe Crowley would throw some venom in there. He quickly slithered under the door, spotting...What?

Aziraphale was _ being kissed _by the man. The cretin was pressing him against the wall, his grubby hands on his hips. Aziraphale’s face was flushed, hands on the man’s chest.

Crowley would have hissed loudly if he weren’t so shocked. How dare this filthy human touch Aziraphale, who was clearly trying to push him away politely! He made his fangs longer, looking for a good place to bite. He wasn’t going to get away with pawing at Crowley’s friend like this. He’d pay. But then, the man’s hands were sliding into Aziraphale’s trousers, and the sound Aziraphale made actually wasn’t distressed at all. Quite the opposite.

Crowley froze.

Aziraphale chuckled into the kiss, pulling back a moment. “Eager, aren’t you, dear?” he asked in a low, smooth voice, smirking.

Crowley was chilled to the bone. He thought Aziraphale only called _ him _that.

“Of course,” the man replied, hand going farther down his trousers and _ cupping. _

Aziraphale let out a little pleased moan. “Excellent.” His eyes sparkled. He tilted his hips towards the man and started kissing him again.

Crowley couldn’t believe his eyes. The man was not assaulting Aziraphale; he was fully consenting. He actually wanted this. A fucking angel was getting an erection (since when did he have a penis???) in a human’s hand. He was about to have sex. Oh, Satan, this was fucked up. How was this happening? Aziraphale was confident, and since when had that happened, too? He was puttering and stuttering and fussy! Not, whatever the fuck he this was. The worst was that he was holding the man’s face like he cared about him. He never held Crowley that way, or in any way. They never really touched, actually. 

Aziraphale gasped softly as the man’s hand moved, and pain slid down Crowley’s long spine. He felt sick. He couldn’t watch anymore. He felt like a dirty, even though he hadn’t meant to witness this. _ Yeah, like that makes it any less pervy. Idiot. _ He was shaking with jealousy and needed to leave. He slithered out of the building as quietly as he came in, and didn’t care if anyone saw him turn human and snap his fingers. He was now back at home, alone. Very alone. He didn’t have anyone else to hang around, but Aziraphale did. It wasn’t just talk. He truly didn’t need Crowley.

He took his gloves off his shaking hands, scowling at the heavy sense of betrayal in his chest. It was stupid. He and Aziraphale were friends, nothing more. Well, _ he _ considered them as friends, but maybe the feeling wasn’t mutual, if the bloody _ fraternizing _comment were anything to go by. So he doubly didn’t owe Crowley anything. He didn’t know about the warmth Crowley felt around him, and only him. He didn’t know Crowley missed him during their years apart, and the centuries he spent hating himself for it. He didn’t know how Crowley wished he could be colder and stay away from him, despite begrudgingly accepting that he couldn’t hate him if he tried. He didn’t know Crowley lived for the bright smile he’d give him after doing him a favor. He didn’t know Crowley accepted a few centuries ago that he would do anything for him. He didn’t know Crowley was pathetically in love with him.

Crowley took off his hat, coat, and glasses slowly, muscles stiff. He remembered when his idle thoughts about Aziraphale turned into yearning to see him again, and then turning into wishing he could bury his nose in those light curls and hold him away from the rest of the world. He couldn’t deny his feelings after that. He was the worst demon in the universe, being in love with an angel. It wasn’t just treasonous against Hell, but everything he was supposed to stand for, too. Damn it, he couldn’t help it. He tried! He really did! But Aziraphale had to be so _ him. _He learned silly dances and collected books like a dragon hoarding a pile of gold, being rude to customers in a way that made him an irresistible bastard. But he had morals, too, real morals that sometimes went against what Heaven wanted. It wasn’t fair. How was Crowley supposed to avoid warming up to him?

But humans seemed to like Aziraphale, too, if this afternoon were any indication. He supposed he couldn’t blame them. Aziraphale lit up every room he was in. Crowley sat on his bed, posture rigid. His chest hurt. Badly. That _ human _got to kiss Aziraphale, and the closest Crowley ever got to touching him was their fingers brushing as they toasted while drinking alcohol. That was it, after millennia, and this human who couldn’t have known him long at all stuck his hand down his fucking trousers! Crowley felt faint as he realized Aziraphale didn’t just seem enthusiastic, but experienced. Had he had sex before? How many times? Crowley shouldn’t have been thinking about this. It made a terrible combination of jealousy and heartbreak run through his veins. 

He laid down on the bed, cursing the way his throat felt tight. He briefly imagined Aziraphale on the bed next to him, turning his face, gazing at him tenderly, and kissing him soundly. He imagined Aziraphale moaning, his eyes rolling back in his head as he allowed himself to feel raw, human pleasure. Was he loud? Did he go for more than one round?

Crowley shivered, trying to ignore the twitch he felt in his cock. Okay, he had to stop thinking about it for real this time. The childish thought that it was all unfair wouldn’t leave his mind. Why did other people get to kiss Aziraphale but he didn’t? Why did Aziraphale call other people ‘dear’? Why didn’t Aziraphale ever give him that easy, suggestive smile? Okay, now they had a fight, but before. 

He had thought, sometimes, that maybe the time they shared actually meant something. They were here since the beginning and seen so many eras in humanity, good and bad. Their experience was like no other. With the way Aziraphale laughed with him, Crowley thought that one day, maybe they could try some stuff, something more than just talking. He loved Aziraphale more than anything, and thought it would be indescribable just to walk arm-in-arm, or hold hands. He wanted to kiss him as deeply as he knew how, but would have settled for less intimacy. There he was, resisting his desires in part because of his own fears of rejection, but because he figured Aziraphale was easily flummoxed. Apparently not! He liked physical contact just fine, as long as it was not with him.

Crowley was angry at how hurt he felt, and stupid he had been. He was trying to get holy water because he didn’t want to give up seeing Aziraphale or get killed by demons, and what did Aziraphale do? He dismissed him, stomped away, and was currently in the arms of another man. He didn’t care about their relationship nearly as much as Crowley did. He wasted so many years thinking about him. Crowley’s hands were balled into fists, a hiss in his breath. 

_ “You’re a demon,” _ Aziraphale had eyes him warily, judgmentally, on the wall of Eden. _ “It’s what you do.” _

That was probably it. His low opinion of Crowley hadn’t changed at all, had it? He still viewed him as the foul fiend who led humanity astray, despite Eve choosing to eat the apple. That was why he couldn’t even think of their friendship without disapproval. 

Crowley growled, getting under the covers and pulling them over his head. Fuck this. Fuck Aziraphale. Fuck his own weak, stupid feelings. He was going to sleep.

* * *

Crowley awoke disoriented and covered with dust. How long was he asleep? He sat up, smacking his lips. His mouth tasted like death. He’d need to clean himself up a bit. He sniffed and sneezed from the dust. He patted it out of his hair with irritation. He felt like something was wrong, and he put his face into the pillow with a groan when he remembered. Aziraphale. The holy water. The gentlemen’s club.

Sleeping didn’t ease the pain, as it turned out.

Well, he’d just have to spend his time adjusting to this new time period. That would occupy his mind.

Of course Aziraphale had to get himself into trouble a month later. Crowley bit his lip when he sensed it, sighing through his nose. That fucking angel wouldn’t let him forget about him, even for a little while. He was a right bastard. Crowley thought about staying put. A nice discorporation would be like payback for being so obnoxious. He sighed again. No, he couldn’t. Even if it was discorporation, it was bound to hurt, and imagining what Aziraphale sounded like while crying out in pain was enough to send Crowley speeding towards the church. 

Crowley gave Aziraphale the books and walked to his car, feeling eyes on the back of his head. He was still hurt from 1862, but he couldn’t show it. He couldn’t even tell Aziraphale what he was upset about. He would be furious if he knew what Crowley saw, and he would have a right to be, he conceded. He certainly would die of embarrassment if he knew Aziraphale ever saw one of the times he indulged in masturbation, especially because he usually couldn’t hold back a strangled out _ Angel _as he came.

Aziraphale got in the car with a _ look _ on his face. His eyes were glassy and unbelievably soft, the lines on his face smoothed out, mouth set in a grin caught between...Crowley didn’t exactly know. Surprise? Awe? Happiness? Affection? No, it couldn’t be the latter.

Crowley looked away, grateful that it was night so that the blush on his cheeks would be invisible and for the glasses. It wasn’t the look Aziraphale gave the man in the club; it had no trace of desire, but fondness was there. It had to have been Crowley’s imagination. He was just relieved to see him after all these years, despite it all. His stomach was in knots, sure, but he didn’t feel lonely for a few minutes. He drove him home in silence, save for his heart pounding loudly in his ears. They pulled up to the bookshop. 

Aziraphale didn’t move.

Crowley turned, and noticed he had that same look on his face. It was like he was a weirdly happy statue. “Angel? Hello? We’re here.”

Aziraphale blinked rapidly, clearing his throat. “Oh, yes, right, of course.” He opened the door. “Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t thank me,” he dismissed. He couldn’t stay angry with him. After all, Aziraphale hadn’t done anything wrong. He wasn’t committed to Crowley in any way. It was like they were in a one-sided marriage. Crowley would save him and do little things to make him happy and pine for him, and Aziraphale would live life doing whatever, and whoever he pleased.

Aziraphale was smiling at him, downright tender.

Crowley didn’t breathe.

Aziraphale reached out and patted his hand on the steering wheel. “See you around, dear.” He rubbed the top of his hand.

Crowley inhaled sharply. _ More. Touch me more. _“Agh.”

Aziraphale got out of the car and went into his shop.

Crowley stepped on the gas pedal, hand tingling and warm. “What was that?” he asked aloud. “What the fuck was that? He never did that before!” Calm down. Calm down, calm down, calm down. It was nothing. It was just a friendly gesture. They didn’t share those before, but this was basically the make-up after their 1862 fight. Aziraphale was just being nice and letting him know everything was okay. He did that right after he thanked him, so it was just some gratitude. Yeah, that was it. No need to think of impossible, ludicrous things. If Aziraphale wanted to do anything more than friendly, he would have, since he had no qualms about touching people intimately. Yeah, that was it. Friendly gratitude. His heart could stop pounding now. If he weren’t driving, he would have banged his head on the steering wheel. He was older than time itself, and he just had a minor breakdown over someone touching his hand. He needed to go make people sin to distract him from everything, especially the memory of Aziraphale’s hands on that human’s chest as they kissed. He needed to get ahold of himself. He was the Tempter, the coolest demon there ever was. He couldn’t get so flustered over this.

Crowley realized he forgot to ask about the holy water. Damn it.

* * *

Crowley was never so happy to receive something that could destroy him in his life. Aziraphale gave it to him. He risked getting in trouble to prevent Crowley from accidentally killing himself while trying to get the holy water. He cared, on some level.

“After everything you said?” he asked in disbelief.

Aziraphale was clearly uneasy. He was breathing heavily, shoulders moving up and down, and his eyes were darting around. He nodded silently.

Crowley looked down at the thermos. “Should I say ‘thank you’?” he asked genuinely as he looked back at him. He was never good with showing gratitude, but this was big. Even he could recognize that.

Aziraphale smiled tightly. “Better not.”

Right. Well, he had to thank him somehow. He struggled to think of something. “Shall I...drop you off anywhere?”

“No, thank you.”

Crowley tilted his head, confused. He didn’t think that was an unreasonable thing to offer.

Aziraphale looked at him, his eyes nervous but placating. “Oh, don’t look so disappointed.”

Shit, he was that obvious?

“Perhaps we could, one day,” he looked at the dashboard, “I don’t know.”

Crowley’s heart fluttered in anticipation. _ Yes? Will you touch my hand again? _

“Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz.”

Oh. He deflated. That was it? A meal together in the unspecified future? He swallowed down his dissatisfaction. “I’ll give you a lift,” he said with forced lightness, “anywhere you wanna go.”

Aziraphale looked at him directly, then. He looked him up and down, anxious, exasperated, and sorry. “You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

Crowley’s brain screeched to a halt. He instantly knew this had nothing to do with his driving speed. What? _ What?! _“Too fast?” he asked with unmasked befuddlement. Too fast for what? Talking? Sitting in a car? Having dinner once a decade at the most? Touching the top of his hand 16 years ago? They barely did a single thing! They knew each other for 6,000 years, the entire lifespan of the earth! How was that fast by any measure whatsoever? 

His second train of thought was not as baffling, but smacked him across the skull with realization. If Aziraphale thought Crowley was moving their relationship “too fast”, then a) that meant his feelings were frighteningly more obvious than he thought and, more importantly, b) Aziraphale was not outright rejecting him, but saying he couldn’t do this _ now _. For some reason, the notion that Aziraphale may have wanted something more than friendship, too, was not the happy moment it was in Crowley’s fantasies. He said that maybe one day they could do what they have always done, essentially. How was that supposed to make Crowley feel good? This actually hurt a bit worse than thinking Aziraphale didn’t consider him a friend. He didn’t know why, nor had the time to examine his emotions at the moment.

Aziraphale’s hand was on the car door, ready to leave. “Yes,” he muttered.

Before the door could open, Crowley asked, “What in Satan’s name does that mean?” He really, honestly did not know. He felt his eyebrows furrow angrily, a leer forming behind his glasses. ‘Too fast’? How did that man with his bloody hand cupping Aziraphale’s cock in 1862 not go ‘too fast’?! 

Aziraphale paused. He sighed, and then his hand tightened on the handle of the door, getting ready to open it. “It’s best if I go.”

“No,” Crowley said firmly.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Answer my question,” he said, glaring at him from behind his sunglasses, mind running a million miles a minute. Why was Aziraphale so willing to go into other men’s arms but reluctant to share a car ride with him? It made no sense and he wanted answers. Maybe it wasn’t really his business, but he was a demon, so social etiquette be damned. His blood felt colder than usual in his veins, his grip tight on the thermos. It was so much harder accepting Aziraphale’s aloof behavior when he saw his true capacity for affection and intimacy. Crowley wanted him so badly it stung his stomach, like a large needle slicing into his insides. He considered that maybe it all boiled down to his being a demon, in the end, and fuck that. He couldn’t change who he was. He hadn’t even wanted to become a demon...

Aziraphale’s eyes turned a little cold. “I don’t believe I have to answer to you.”

Crowley clenched his jaw, composing himself. He couldn’t reveal he had spied on him. He couldn’t reveal his feelings. “All I wanted to do was give you a bloody ride,” he said, snarling more than he intended.

“And I declined,” Aziraphale said stiffly.

“How do I go ‘too fast’?” he pressed on. “We only—only talk.”

Aziraphale lowered his gaze then, his anger seeping away. Was that expression one of shame? “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m talking about the car,” he murmured, and moved to leave again.

“No you’re not!” he snapped. “Other men don’t go too fast for you,” Crowley’s mouth uttered flatly before his brain could stop him.

The anger returned, a fire in Aziraphale’s eye. “What?” he asked quietly, calmly.

Crowley’s heart thumped and the action sent goosebumps across his skin. Shit, shit, shit. Why the Heaven did he say that? “I’m a demon. I hear things,” he lied. 

Aziraphale outright glowered at him. “What I do in my private life is absolutely _ none _of your concern,” he said sharply. “We are not having this conversation.”

Crowley’s grip tightened around the thermos. “But—”

Aziraphale got out of the car and slammed the door hard, stomping away.

Crowley slumped back in the seat, clutching the thermos to his chest. That went terribly. He tilted his head backwards and let out a frustrated groan. “He is such a bastard,” he bemoaned to the ceiling of the car. He imitated Aziraphale’s accent, “‘Oh, sorry, I can’t let you give me a lift because that’d be rather odd but I’ll let random humans feel me up! Ha, sorry, dear!’” 

He was going mad. He was definitely more confused than ever. If Aziraphale thought he was trying to progress their relationship, then he must have known Crowley’s feelings were not strictly platonic, right? That made sense, but the only reason why Crowley wasn’t humiliated was because his brain was trying to make sense of the rest of it. Aziraphale would have said something else if he simply didn’t feel the same way, like “We want different things, Crowley” or “We’re not on the same page”, or just something that didn’t sound like “I know what’s going on, but I’m not ready.”

Home now, Crowley carefully put the holy water in his safe, a shiver wrapped around his spine at the base of his neck. He sat down on his throne, taking off his glasses. He sat and thought about it. Aziraphale felt something for him other than friendship. He should have been happy. But if Aziraphale was having a holy little crisis and self-flagellating because he dared to care for the Damned, Crowley didn’t really feel comforted by that.

He sighed deeply. Maybe he was being too harsh. He knew well how Heaven could have a tight psychological grip on its subjects. Aziraphale was loyal to God, and maybe the idea of straying away frightened him. Crowley could get that. He still didn’t know how fucking humans was seen as in line with Heaven to Aziraphale, though.

Crowley thought of the implications of the conversation. There was potential for them in the future. Well, he supposed he could wait another 6,000 years, if he really had to. What else was he going to do? He couldn’t force Aziraphale to kiss him, or love him. It wouldn’t be right. He closed his eyes with a shuddering sigh. _ Did _Aziraphale love him? He...he didn’t think so. He liked him and cared about his safety. The holy water was proof of that. What they were going through right now was just another fight. After recovering from their 1862 incident, Crowley was fairly sure that they would be at least somewhat all right after this with time. But liking someone enough to not want them to die wasn’t the same as loving them. 

Crowley sank down into his chair. “Didn’t even mean to Fall,” he muttered, not for the first time in his life. He looked up at the ceiling. “Why’d you do this to me?” he asked God. “None of the others in Hell can love.” He was okay with admitting it out loud to Her because She knew anyway. It was pointless to pretend otherwise. “God, hello? This is just overkill, you know. Wasn’t the whole agony as my wings turned black bit enough?”

As always, God didn’t answer.

* * *

The funny thing about the oncoming apocalypse was that it took precedence over everything else in their lives. Crowley didn’t hesitate to call Aziraphale when the anti-Christ was born, and thankfully, their conversation stuck solely to earth and the Plan. It was like 1967 had never happened, and Crowley was fine with that. If Aziraphale wasn’t going to make a move, then there was no point dwelling on it. He had spent the past few decades trying to think of Aziraphale as little as possible. Creating the M25 helped distract him a lot, as did the rise of reality television. He still, when he chose to sleep, dreamt of Aziraphale kissing his neck and rubbing him through his trousers, but that was neither here nor there. 

As mobile phones and the internet grew in popularity, Crowley invented selfies. He was quite proud of it, to be honest. All of those humans annoying each other with selfies at inappropriate moments and engaging in vanity. Hell was pleased. His invention gave him an opportunity. The increased time he spent with Aziraphale from raising Warlock made his feelings difficult to ignore. They had never spent this much time around each other. His desire to be close to Aziraphale grew, and if a touch on the hand could hold him over for over 70 years, then another little touch could do him good for another few decades. He schemed, and got an idea.

They were sharing a drink at Aziraphale’s bookshop, because really, Warlock was kind of exhausting. He didn’t seem demonic, but just plain annoying. Crowley liked kids, more or less, but Warlock was turning into a bit of a brat with age.

The point was they were both tipsy and Aziraphale’s cheeks were pink and his gaze was getting unfocused in a way that tugged at Crowley’s heart. He was endearing. He was starting to slur a little and he let out a little hiccup.

Crowley was smitten. He stood up. “Did I tell you about my latest demonic work?”

“No,” Aziraphale said dubiously. “Do I want to know?”

“No one gets hurt, I promise.”

“Okay,” he eased up, sitting up straighter in his chair.

Crowley took out his phone. “Yeah, look, these phones have cameras—”

“How on earth?” he asked.

“Get with the times, angel. Anyway, people take pictures of themselves now. It’s called a ‘selfie’ and people get full blown narcissistic with them,” he explained with a satisfied smirk.

“People really enjoy taking photographs of themselves so much?” he asked.

“Yeah. Wanna try?”

“I don’t know how to use that,” he looked at the phone.

“No, I’ll take it. Of both of us.”

“Oh. Then, is it still a self-photograph if another person is in it?”

“_Selfie_, and yes, it is. C’mon.” Crowley walked around the back of Aziraphale’s chair, leaning down and pulling up the camera on his phone. “People get close for ‘em,” he said, and pressed his cheek against Aziraphale’s and snapped the picture.

Aziraphale gasped and stood up, eyes wide.

Crowley was glad he hadn’t taken off his sunglasses. “What?” he asked casually. He still felt Aziraphale’s warm cheek against his.

“Um, n-nothing,” Aziraphale said, clearing his throat, flushing. “Wh-how did it come out?”

Crowley looked at the picture. He had put on a cocky smile, and Aziraphale’s lips were pulled up a little, but his expression was clearly changing into one of shock. He pressed his lips together. “Damn, it was too blurry,” he lied.

“Oh, what a shame,” Aziraphale laughed nervously. “Why don’t I get us more wine?” He walked into the opposite corner of the bookshop and took a ridiculously long time to refill their glasses.

Crowley deleted the picture and sat down in the chair, shoving away his disappointment. Aziraphale acted like he was burned. His touch was really that unappealing, huh. _ That was a failure. Great job, moron. That’s what you get for fantasizing about him like a human teenager. _

* * *

Aziraphale was on edge now, on the cusp of Armageddon. They both were. “We are an _ angel _ and a _ demon _. We have nothing in common. I don’t even like you!” Aziraphale cried.

The blood in Crowley’s veins was boiling. The last thing he wanted to hear was a reminder that they could never be together because of who he was, and from Aziraphale’s lips of all things. “You doooo!”

Aziraphale looked like a frightened animal, ready to bolt. “Even if I did know where the anti-Christ is, I wouldn’t tell you because we’re on opposite sides!”

Crowley felt a hiss brewing in his throat. He was losing his patience very quickly. “We’re on _ our _side.”

“There is no ‘our side’, Crowley. Not anymore! It’s over.”

Crowley felt his heart shatter in two and land in fire in his chest. After 6,000 years, Aziraphale was going to end it just like that? Because he was a fucking demon? Crowley never felt so angry with him. “You won’t run away with me because I’m a demon,” he spoke in a low growl.

“Yes,” Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “You can’t tempt me to abandon my duty to humanity.”

Crowley felt his fangs sliding out in bubbling anger. He wasn’t trying to do that at all. Aziraphale was never this much of a bastard to him. He didn’t like it. Not one bit. He didn’t feel the need to hold back. It was over, anyway. “But humans can tempt you, can’t they?” he asked in a biting voice.

Aziraphale balled his hands into fists, his face turning red, glaring. “Not this again.”

“You’ve done some pretty non-angelic things that have got nothing to do with me,” he accused. If it was over, he might as well get this off his chest.

Aziraphale was indignant. “You have no right to judge me. It wasn’t much different than indulging in delicious food.”

Yes it fucking was, but Crowley shook his head roughly. “Why’d you let humans tempt you to _ that _but you won’t even work with me?” he demanded.

Aziraphale’s gaze was piercing. “Humans are not my enemy,” he said sternly.

The rejection settled bitterly in his chest. Crowley stared at him. He could tell Aziraphale was bothered about something else, but fuck it. It wasn’t his job to figure it out. He wasn’t going to mope around and plead with him like a lovesick jackass (which, yeah, he was that, but he still had some fucking pride). Crowley walked away from him. Sadly, he wasn’t surprised by this; he suspected the reason behind Aziraphale’s reluctance to be with him for years. He shouldn’t have thought Aziraphale would ever choose him. God cursed him with optimism and it always bit him in the arse. 

* * *

The worst moment of Crowley’s long life was when he was yelling Aziraphale’s name into the smoke and flame-filled air, on the verge of tears. “For somebody’s sake, where are you?!” he screamed. A blast from a firehouse outside slammed into him, sending him to the floor. His ears were ringing and he sat up, squinting into the flames. He was about to give up when he saw a lump on the floor. Staggering to his feet and tripping on the way, he came across Aziraphale’s body on the floor surrounded by candles. 

“Aziraphale!” Crowley cried in relief, falling to his knees. But something was still wrong. Why couldn’t he feel him? If the building hadn’t been burning around them, he would have tried to drag Aziraphale into the Bentley, but he didn’t have time! They needed to get out of there. Crowley saw a book on the ground nearby and grabbed it. Aziraphale would want it to be saved. Summoning all of his strength, Crowley placed his hands on Aziraphale and teleported them to the bed in his flat. It was such a draining miracle to transport two beings, even in the same city, that Crowley collapsed on the bed. He panted, momentarily dazed. He lifted his head, his ash-stained cheek leaving a mark on his pillow.

Aziraphale was lying on his back, eyes closed, still as the dead. No. He couldn’t be. He didn’t look injured at all. He wasn’t breathing, but that was technically optional.

Crowley couldn’t _ feel _his soul, though. His stomach churned, heart in his throat. He felt like he was being thrown down into a pool of boiling sulfur again, filled with despair. “No,” he croaked. He sat up, grabbing his coat lapels. “Aziraphale!” he yelled.

Not a flinch.

Crowley raised his hand. It hovered in the air, but Aziraphale still wasn’t moving, so he slapped him hard across the face, making a startling _ smack _sound and sending his face off to the side. Crowley winced. He never wanted to hit him. “Don’t make me do it again,” he warned weakly.

Aziraphale was motionless. His cheek was pale, not even reddening from the slap.

Crowley’s vision blurred and he was muttering _ no no no no no. _It couldn’t be, but he wasn’t an idiot. He was in bed with a lifeless body and Aziraphale’s essence was nowhere to be seen, or felt. He was dead. “You’ve gone,” tears spilled over his exposed eyes. He bit his lip, fangs out and drawing blood. He looked to the ceiling with fury. “How could you?!” he yelled at God. “He was an angel! He was one of your children and you let this happen?!” His throat was sore and his voice was hoarse from the fire. He kept yelling. “He loved you! He never wanted to upset you!” Tears dripped off his chin. He felt like he was going to hurl, and might have if he had food in his stomach. “Look what you’ve done!” his voice broke with a crack. He looked down at Aziraphale’s slack face. “And you!” He grabbed fistfuls of his waistcoat, lifting the limp body. He gagged at how it dangled in his grasp. He was audibly crying now for the first time since his Fall. “Why couldn’t you listen to me?” he asked through gritted teeth. “No one would have come for you in Alpha Centauri. I wasn't _tempting_ you!” 

Aziraphale’s body didn’t respond.

Crowley lowered him to the bed and leaned down, craning his neck and burying his sobs in Aziraphale’s chest. It was downright cruel that this was the closest they had ever been. The sound of thunder cracked but he didn’t move. He didn’t care. 

“Why didn’t you choose me?” he wept miserably into his chest. “I would’ve protected you. I fucking loved you, you son of a bitch.” _ A massive bitch! _ he mentally cursed at God. He trembled and grew quieter, hot, grieving tears leaking from his closed eyes. _ Why couldn’t you love me? I would’ve taken care of you. Given you more than any human ever did. For fuck's sake, I adored you._

Crowley was prepared to remain there until the end. There was no point in saving the world if there were no Aziraphale. He felt weak, too, from the miracle. So weak. He could lie down and rest until the end. He didn’t care if Heaven won and they killed him. _ Do whatever you want, you fuckwits, _he thought, having given up. 

“Crowley?”

He startled, jaw dropping and heart stopping. At the foot of the bed—it was—it was—“Aziraphale.” The world stopped. He wiped his eyes furiously and squinted. “Are you here?” It had to be a dream. He must have cried himself to sleep.

“Good question. Not certain. Never done this before.” His voice sounded far away. Shock was written all over his face. “That’s my body.”

Crowley registered that he was holding onto it and lifted his hands, his heart kicking back to life as he flushed. “Uh, yeah, erm, what the fuck happened to you?” he asked. The devastation he felt just a minute ago was gone and he held back a tear of relief. He couldn’t cry in front of Aziraphale. His face was still wet from the hose, which gave him an excuse for the tear tracks already on his face.

“Long story, but I’ve been discorporated.”

“Oh.” He felt really fucking dumb. That was why he couldn’t sense him but there was no sign of injury on his body.

The wavy image in front of him flew into the body. Aziraphale opened his eyes with a gasp, sitting up.

Crowley never fainted before, but he could have now. This was real. His angel was alive. He could only stare, taking in every movement and the way a healthy flush returned to his cheeks. 

Aziraphale looked around. “How did my body get here? Where are we?”

“My flat,” he rasped. “I miracled us here.”

“Your flat?” his brow furrowed. “I—Crowley, why are you wet?”

Crowley braced himself. He hated making his beloved unhappy. His heart sunk for him. “It was a blast from a firehose.”

“Where was the fire?”

Crowley wanted to reach out, but squashed the thought. “I’m really sorry, but your bookshop burned down,” he revealed, voice rough and quivering from, well, everything.

Aziraphale was very still. “All of it?” he asked.

Crowley hated that he couldn’t make the situation better. “Eh—mmm, eh, er—mmm, yeah.”

Aziraphale lowered his eyes, then they widened. “Agnes Nutter!”

Crowley spun around and realized the book he grabbed was behind him on the bed. “Oh, yeah,” he gave it to him. “It was all I could get.”

“It’s exactly what we need!” Aziraphale beamed.

Crowley thought he’d never see that smile again. He melted. 

Aziraphale’s smile faltered, but his eyes were soft. “I’m afraid I rather made a mess of things.”

Crowley only stared, still melting like an ice cream cone in the sun. He didn’t even care about their argument earlier. He was too happy to remember to be angry. _ Screw you for not letting me stay mad at you, _ he thought. _ Screw you for making me happy. _

Aziraphale lifted his hand, paused, and then placed it on Crowley’s damp cheek.

He went from melting ice cream to stone in an instant. 

“We have a world to save,” Aziraphale’s eyes searched his, “but if we succeed, then afterwards, I’d like to have a word with you. Okay, my dear?”

Crowley swallowed. “What’d I do now?” he asked. Okay, he was evil and got up to no good on a regular basis, but couldn’t remember doing anything bad that was noteworthy.

Aziraphale grinned. “Nothing wrong, Crowley.”

He remembered he was supposed to do wrong, but no one was really keeping score anymore. Keeping score was exhausting a lot of times, anyway. “Oh. Okay.”

Aziraphale brushed his cheekbone. 

Crowley could have whimpered.

“Good.” Aziraphale let go of him and opened the book. “Now, I know where the anti-Christ is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, you think there will be a soppy sex scene next chapter? You're correct, friend.


	2. Chapter 2

In the end, they admittedly didn’t do much to save the world at all besides giving a child some encouraging words. Aziraphale was right to say they were incompetent, but it all worked out, somehow, and Crowley was left wondering again about the ineffable plan. 

The bus drove up the road.

“I suppose I’ll have him drop me off at the bookshop,” Aziraphale said.

There was a pang to Crowley’s heart. “It burned down,” he reminded him gently. “Remember?”

Aziraphale pressed his lips together and he turned his face away, eyes watering.

Aw, fuck, Crowley couldn’t let him look like that. He lost his Bentley, so he knew the pain he felt. “You can stay at my place, if you like,” he offered. He couldn’t just leave him with nowhere to go.

Aziraphale gazed at him thoughtfully. “If it wouldn’t be an imposition, I would appreciate that.”

Crowley grumbled. “Of course it’s not an imposition. Don’t be annoying.”

A few minutes into the bus ride, Aziraphale, the brilliant bastard, came up with the body swap plan. It just might work.

“We’ll have to wait until we’re at my flat to switch,” Crowley said. “No one will see us there.”

“Agreed,” Aziraphale said. “It’s possible that we will die tomorrow, but I feel confident about this. Agnes hasn’t been wrong yet.”

“Let’s hope she didn’t decide to be wrong on the one prophecy concerning our lives,” Crowley said through a yawn. Fuck, he was wiped out. First fighting with Aziraphale, then miracling them to his flat, then thinking he was dead, then discovering he was alive, then stopping time? It was way more emotion and power than he was used to exerting. It was the busiest day of his life and his human body was craving sleep. It didn’t help that Aziraphale was radiating warmth, the annoying beacon of celestial energy that he was. 

“If God let us make it this far, I can’t see why we wouldn’t make it through tomorrow,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t think I’ll ever know what She’s thinking.”

“None of us will,” he said wistfully. He sighed quietly and then his gaze flickered to Crowley. He turned concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Just tired,” he said, shrugging. “Used a lotta demonic power.”

“Oh, of course,” he nodded in understanding. “You did quite a lot today.”

“That was the biggest fucking understatement ever.”

“I’ll excuse your language for today.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Angels don’t sleep,” he said. “Do demons?”

“None except me, I don’t think. It’s like you and—“ fucking “—eating. You don’t have to, but don’t you feel better after doing it?”

“Yes. That makes perfect sense. You should sleep, then, until we arrive. I believe it’ll be some time yet.”

Crowley made a face. “Nah, I’ll be okay.” He never actually slept in front of someone else, and something about Aziraphale seeing him unconscious and defenseless made him feel weird. He was already vulnerable enough for one day, thank you very much. He had an image to uphold.

“Yes, but you would feel better sooner.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“If you’re certain,” Aziraphale eyed him skeptically.

Crowley hummed and looked out the window, settling into silence. He began blinking more than usual as it got harder to focus. He sniffed, sitting up a little. He was mentally exhausted, too. He remembered that Aziraphale said he wanted to talk, but knew it wasn’t the time or place, not until they knew they were safe. He still thought about it, though, and Aziraphale’s hand on his cheek. He didn’t know what that was about, but he liked it a lot. _ All he did was touch your cheek and you’re going gaga, _ he thought with disdain. _ Grow up. _He yawned again, eyelids feeling heavy. He hoped he didn’t have to stop time and bring himself, an angel, and a human child onto an unspecified astral plane again for awhile. It zapped the life out of him.

Later, he would swear some bloody angelic power was used, because the next thing he knew, a soft voice was calling his name.

“Crowley? Crowley?” 

Crowley’s cheek was against the warmest, nicest-smelling pillow in the world. It was better than his silk pillow at home.

A gentle shake of his shoulder. “Dearest, I know you’re tired, but we’re here.”

_ Dearest? _He was never called that one before. Crowley lifted his head, brain fuzzy. “Huh?”

Aziraphale had the warmest smile in the world, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Feel refreshed?”

Heat slid up his neck. He had been sleeping on his God damned shoulder. Not literally God-damned. Whatever! Crowley stammered. “I—uh, wha-what?”

Aziraphale stood up, smile not leaving his face. “Come on, we’re here.” He walked off the bus.

Crowley followed after him, slack-jawed and blinking. “Did you…?”

“You look more energized,” he said.

“Um, I am.”

“Good. We have work to do.”

Crowley didn’t think he would ever enter Aziraphale’s body _ this way _, but here they were. It was so weird seeing his own face stare back at him. Their bodies weren’t necessarily their true forms, but they had come to identify with them.

“How do you wear this many layers?” Crowley asked in Aziraphale’s voice.

“How do you not wear undergarments?” he countered

Crap. He forgot about that. “It’s breezy!”

“It’s exposing!”

Seeing his body flustered like that way definitely weird. Crowley wisely held his tongue about Aziraphale’s sex life. No time for that now. He couldn’t even think dirty thoughts about Aziraphale’s body, other than mentally noting that his penis felt a decent size. They had to take a crash course acting class on each other.

* * *

Agnes was right. Thank someone for that.

Now, Aziraphale smiled softly at him all throughout dinner, happy and relaxed. He hadn’t been this at ease with Crowley in a long time, and it made the fight they had yesterday feel like a weird nightmare. He had never felt such intense whiplash in his life. He wasn’t one to hold grudges, though, at least not against Aziraphale. He wasn’t going to be pissed at him after all of the chaotic events that followed the bandstand. Besides, thinking the love of your life was dead kind of had the ability to slash your ego. And the food was good, which put him in a better mood than usual. He didn’t eat often, but he liked doing it.

Aziraphale dabbed his bottom lip with his napkin. “What an excellent meal.”

“Mmm,” Crowley hummed in agreement.

He put down the napkin, looking at him from under his light lashes. He let out a little laugh in a huff of breath. “We made it. We finally dined at the Ritz.”

Reminded of 1967, Crowley sat up a little. “Yeah,” he said, wondering where this was going. The laid back atmosphere from dinner was about to change, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted it to.

Aziraphale’s gaze was focused on him, looking him up and down.

Crowley shifted in his seat. “What?”

He called the waiter over with a wave of his hand. “Time to go now, don’t you think?”

Crowley didn’t want to part ways. When would they see each other again? “Yeah, sure.” He had his hands in his pockets as they walked out. He didn’t know what to say. _ I just got you back, so can we hang out a little longer? No, damn it, that sounds clingy. _“I’m sure you’re eager to see your shop again,” he commented casually. His Bentley was parked near his flat, meaning they either had to walk or take public transportation to get home. Crowley really wasn’t up for any more miracles right now.

“Yes,” he said with an easy smile. “You’ll be glad to see your car again, I imagine.”

“Oh yeah. Definitely.” They were walking down the pavement without agreeing to go back to either of their places. Crowley didn’t know if he should announce he was going home and leave or if that would make things awkward. He decided to stay quiet to keep the moment intact and steal more time with him,

Then, Aziraphale slid his arm in the crook of Crowley’s elbow, walking closer.

Crowley would have tripped on his own two feet if he weren’t busy stopping a small gasp from leaving his throat. His eyebrows shot up and he turned his face.

Aziraphale was looking ahead, acting like they walked arm-in-arm all the time.

Crowley looked back at the pavement in front of them. _ Why is he doing this? He doesn’t touch me. Don’t panic. Panicking is lame. _His muscles were stiff. It must have been like walking arm-in-arm with a tree. He couldn’t help it. He was afraid to relax into Aziraphale’s warmth.

“If you recall, I said I wanted a word with you,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley felt his stomach do a little flip. “Uh huh.”

“Well, I believe now’s the time, once we return to the bookshop.”

Crowley’s throat was dry. “You’re gonna make me wait in suspense until then?”

Aziraphale grinned at him then. “Only for a little longer, dear.”

His heart skipped a beat. _ Keep calm. _ “O... _ kay_,” he said skeptically. This didn’t seem like it was going to be a negative conversation, but he couldn’t stop being paranoid.

“It’s a lovely Sunday afternoon,” Aziraphale looked towards the sky, the sun descending lower gradually. “A picturesque re-start of the world, wouldn’t you say?”

“It’s too perfect,” he muttered reflexively.

Aziraphale nudged his arm. “None of that doom and gloom today.”

“Doom and gloom is my thing.” Crowley’s skin was on fire under his jacket. They never touched this long before. He was lost. He couldn’t possibly think this meant anything. That would be stupid. He would be setting himself up for disappointment. He needed to stop acting like a braindead moron. He was a demon. He was not nice. He was _ the _tempter. He was...having an episode over his arm being touched. He was so glad he just stopped working for Hell because he would have never heard the end of it if other demons found out.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. When they got to the bookshop, Aziraphale let them in and looked around.

“Bless Adam for restoring it all,” he beamed, hanging up his coat.

Crowley was going to say something snarky, but remembered this place up in flames, everything being destroyed with Aziraphale’s lifeless body on the ground. He suddenly wasn’t in the mood for humor.

Aziraphale looked at him, the beam sliding off his face. He sighed. “Crowley. Won’t you sit down?”

He sat in a nearby armchair, nervous. “You said I didn’t do anything wrong, but why do I feel like you’re about to scold me?”

He laughed nervously. “No, no, I’m not.” He rocked back on his heels. “I’m just unsure of where to begin.”

Crowley sprawled out in the chair, trying to resemble nonchalance. “I don’t know what to make of any of this, angel,” he said honestly.

“No,” he looked down at the floor, “I imagine you wouldn’t.” He closed his eyes and sighed again. He opened them and met Crowley’s gaze. “Well, to start with, you were right about there being no one to talk to in Heaven. I so believed they would want the right thing, but they didn’t, and it shook me to my core to realize that. I was naive and directed my fear at you. You were never my enemy.” He frowned. “I apologize for yesterday.”

No one ever apologized to Crowley in his life. It made his chest feel funny. He was dumbfounded and had no idea what to do. His glasses slid down his nose so he pushed them back up. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said faintly.

Aziraphale’s frown deepened. “Oh, but I must. I was terribly out of line.” His eyebrows furrowed into a pinch. “And I shouldn’t have accused you of trying to tempt me.”

“I’m the original tempter,” Crowley interrupted, because he didn’t know if he actually liked being on the receiving end of apologies. It was disconcerting.

“I know that very well. However, you had no ill intentions and I was being unfair.”

“Stop,” Crowley said, mouth dry as a desert. “You don’t apologize to demons. That’s not how it works.”

Aziraphale’s mouth twisted into an unhappy line. “But I want to.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he told him emphatically. “I’m a creature of Hell. I wasn’t insulted,” he lied. “I don’t need any apologies.”

Aziraphale took a few steps forward, closer to the chair. He had his hands folded behind his back. “Were you truly not upset?” he asked.

“Truly,” he lied once more. “You’re overreacting.”

Aziraphale stared down at him seriously.

Crowley was glad his glasses were still on. He didn’t know if he could face those sincere blue eyes head-on. 

“You only wanted what you thought was the best for us,” he said.

Crowley wanted to squirm, but he willed his limbs to stay put. “Duh.”_ No, don’t be mean. _

Aziraphale didn’t take any offense. He was, however, uneasy. “I’m glad the earth is here, but going off with you was a nice idea.”

Satan, where was he going with this? “’S why I said it,” he said, voice lower in volume than he had intended. Damn it, he sounded timid.

Aziraphale licked his lips and Crowley watched his tongue. His round cheeks were turning pink. “You weren’t judging me for having had sexual intercourse,” he said.

Crowley couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping. Fuck, fuck, fuck. They were doing this. But he still had no idea where this was going. “Of-of course I was,” he deflected, because the truth couldn’t be uttered.

A minute shake of his head. “You usually don’t lie to me,” the accusation left his lips calmly.

Finding himself consistently on the wrong footing in this conversation, Crowley denied with a wave of his hand, “I lie all the time!”

“So you admit you lied just now?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

His hand fell to his lap. Crowley wanted to get up and leave, but that would have required physically pushing past Aziraphale. “Shit, Aziraphale, can you tell me what the fuck this is about?” he asked, approaching the end of his rope. His irritating heart was beating hard. He hated that emotions so greatly affected the human body. He didn’t know why God did that.

He took a deep breath, hands unfolding from behind his back and fiddling anxiously in front of his stomach. “Just remain calm and don’t bite my head off.” 

Before Crowley could react, his sunglasses were lifted onto the top of his head into his hair and his eyes were revealed. Then, quickly and with zero warning, warm lips were pressed to his forehead and gone after a few seconds.

Aziraphale’s hands were on the arms of the chair, leaning down, and his face was pink as roses. 

Fire licked Crowley’s neck, face, and ears, and he gaped up at him helplessly, heart beating in his throat. His brain resembled an old dial-up computer, screeching and struggling to function. 

A shy gentleness entered Aziraphale’s eyes. “You were jealous to discover I’d been with humans,” he said.

Crowley was struggling to sift through the emotions cluttering his mind. _ Ohfuckohfuckohfuck he knows but he kissed me, he kissed me but he—he— _“Az.” He meant to say Aziraphale’s name but only one syllable was produced.

“How did you find out, anyway?” he asked, leaning back a little so they weren’t as close, but he kept his hands on the chair.

Crowley swallowed because his throat felt like sandpaper. There was no way this was happening. He couldn’t have just been kissed. Aziraphale was put off by his demonic nature. Right?

He must have been silent for too long, because Aziraphale stood up straight and miracled the chair to accommodate two people. He sat down next to Crowley, their thighs touching. “Talk to me, please.”

Crowley’s brain snapped back online, unable to deny a request from him. “It was 1862 after we fought.”

“Yes?” he listened.

Crowley’s palms were sweating. Shit, they’d never done that before. What was that about? “I wanted to talk. About the holy water. I’d heard you’d joined a club. I looked in and saw you dancing but then you went with a man in a room, and I—I was curious.”

Aziraphale was puzzled. “I remember the club, but I don’t remember you ever being there.”

Fuck. He looked down at his shoes. “I kind of turned into a small snake and slid under the door and saw a man with his hand down your trousers.”

The bookshop’s silence was oppressive.

Aziraphale then pinched the bridge of his nose, red as Crowley felt. “Oh, good Lord.”

“I didn’t mean to see!” Crowley rushed to tell him. “I thought you could’ve been in trouble so that’s why I followed. I left as soon as, you know.”

Aziraphale’s shoulders moved up and down in a slow sigh. He looked at him with exasperation. “I would be quite cross with you if I didn’t know how much it hurt you to witness that.”

Crowley wanted to disappear into the floorboards. He wanted to go slither out the front door. “It didn’t hurt. What’re you on about?”

Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed the corner of his mouth.

Some strangled vowels left his throat. “You can’t just do that!” he spluttered. “Are you drunk?” This was his dream come true, but Aziraphale spent so long avoiding touching him. It had to be a trick somehow. 

Aziraphale was undeterred, but sad. “Crowley,” he started softly, “remember yesterday when I was discorporated?”

“Of course I fucking do,” he snapped like a rubberband being flung across the room. If only his fucking palms would stop sweating.

Aziraphale’s hands were on his lap, fingers digging into his knees. “You didn’t notice my arrival for a good minute.”

Crowley was done sweating as ice was dumped down his back. _ Aziraphale had seen him crying into his empty vessel’s chest. _ He—he _ saw_. He _ heard._ “What did you see?” he demanded.

Aziraphale was sorrowful. “You thought I was dead. I never witnessed you cry before, and I feel terrible that it was because of me.”

Crowley’s throat was tight, mortified. His ego was gone, defeated by an angel in a bow tie. “I wasn’t…”

Aziraphale chewed his bottom lip, looking him up and down. “You told me you loved me.”

Crowley stood up but was immediately stopped by a surprisingly strong grip on his wrist. He looked back wildly at Aziraphale, feeling like absolute shit. He thought those words had only been heard by God. Shame stabbed his gut.

Aziraphale’s gaze was firm yet pleading.

Crowley felt a humiliating sting at the corners of his eyes, so he ducked his head and shut them. His hands were trembling. He would have rather been Hell, having his wings plucked apart by Hastur. “1967,” he rasped. “Didn’t you know then? You don’t want me.” This was the worst conversation of his life. Bringing all of this out in the open was torture. 

Aziraphale’s grip relaxed slightly. “I didn’t, really,” he murmured. “I knew there was _ something _deeper behind your actions over the years, but not the extent. Not until yesterday. I was frightened. You know we aren’t—weren’t—supposed to feel anything but disdain for each other.”

There it was. It came down to his demonic nature yet again. Opening his eyes with an irritated frown, he said, “I’m well aware.” His stomach hurt.

Aziraphale blinked and let go of him. “Why are you angry?”

You know what? Fuck it. He might as well say it, since apparently Aziraphale saw him at his most vulnerable yesterday. Crowley straightened, putting his sunglasses back over his eyes (he didn’t miss the disappointed frown that caused). “Because I know, okay. I’m not a fucking idiot. You went and fucked humans because you couldn’t bring yourself to be with a demon. I know a vile thing like me can’t taint a holy creature like you,” he finished in a sing-song mocking tone.

Aziraphale looked like he wanted to be angry but was too baffled. “Crowley, you—what on earth—? That’s not true at all!”

Self-hatred boiling like a pool of sulfur in his gut, he said sharply, “You went off with humans because I’m a demon. You were afraid of whatever the fuck you might feel towards me because of what I am.”

“No!” he exclaimed, definitely annoyed now. “Those humans meant nothing to me. Well, don’t misunderstand, they were all very nice chaps and I liked them, but I went with them because it felt good and was casual and friendly. I didn’t love those men, Crowley.” He pursed his lips, the lines in his face smoothing out a little. “I didn’t love them,” he said pointedly.

Crowley was rooted to the spot, the pain in his stomach dissolving along with the weight that slammed down on his shoulders in 1862. His lips were parted and he was still as a statue, because surely that couldn’t mean what his dumb heart was telling him it meant.

Aziraphale was dejected. “Don’t you see? I didn’t form attachments to those men, so having some fun and then waving goodbye was of no consequence to me. But I couldn’t have done that with you.”

Crowley didn’t know what to say. He had been mistaken all this time? Well...well, that was a good thing. “So...you never did anything with me because you—your—the way you feel, and not because you hate the thought of being with a demon,” he said slowly.

“Not because I hate the thought of being with _ this _demon,” he corrected. “I know what you are, dear. I happened to be there at Eden.”

That struck him funny and he smiled despite himself.

Aziraphale didn’t smile back. “I could hardly be in the same room as you without being terrified of the depth of my feelings. I was supposed to hate you, but I could never, so I had to separate myself from you. Being with you intimately was out of the question. I wouldn’t have been able to do it just once.”

Crowley was dizzy. He sat back down slowly, legs unsteady. “It’s really not because you’re like, grossed out by my being a demon?”

Aziraphale tsk’d. “Heavens, no. Quite the opposite.” He looked horrified at the thought. “I’m enraptured by you.”

“‘Enraptured,’” he choked out. “R-right.” What was he supposed to do with that?

He tilted his head slightly to the left, expression somehow turning sadder but softer, too. “You’ve always had the most captivating eyes, you know.”

Crowley blushed furiously and pushed the glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

Aziraphale pouted. “Can I see them? Please?”

An angel’s pout was more persuasive than any demon’s temptation. Crowley took the glasses off and put them in his pocket.

“There you are. That’s better.” 

He had no idea how to respond.

“You know, I hadn’t known how you truly felt, but I apologize for upsetting you nevertheless.”

“If you don’t stop apologizing to me, I’ll kill you.” What an asinine thing to say. He was caught sobbing over his body yesterday.

Aziraphale lifted his hand, curving his fingers, and brushed his knuckles over his cheek. 

Crowley shivered.

Aziraphale’s eyes were warm, but serious and a darker blue than usual. “If our superiors had allowed it, I would have made love to you a long time ago.”

A pathetic whimper left his lips and he shivered harder, and shit, he was sweating again. “Y-you can’t make, um, ugh, do that to the Damned.”

Aziraphale’s gaze flickered down to his lips. “I’d very much like to try.”

Crowley was going to spontaneously combust or he was going to go into cardiac arrest. Maybe both. His heart itself felt like it was shaking. “Oh, _ God _, Aziraphale, stop talking and do something already,” he begged, too desperate to be aware of his call upon the Almighty.

“Oh, yes, right. Sorry, dear.” Aziraphale’s petal-soft lips were on his. Crowley grasped his waistcoat because he needed something to anchor himself to earth. Kissing was new and nearly frightening. This was the closest they’d ever been. Aziraphale’s warm breath from his nose was fanning onto his face and his lips were pressing firmly against his. He didn’t know so many nerve-endings were in human lips, but his were tingling right now. Aziraphale turned his face and their lips slotted together better, and Crowley couldn’t get over how much he was enjoying this. He remembered that kissing was a mutual act and that he really should have been kissing back, so he did. He tried. He wasn’t really sure if he was doing it right. Aziraphale made a pleased little sound. Crowley kissed him back some more, and he felt a warmth enter his soul that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Aziraphale parted his lips, and wasn’t that a hell of a feeling. If he didn’t know better, Crowley would call his lips sinfully soft. The pain that he felt since 1862 (since 4004 BC) was beginning to lessen. This was real. He was being kissed. Aziraphale was choosing to touch him. Crowley moved his lips in tandem with Aziraphale’s, more than happy to let him take the lead. He was floating. It was like he was on a cloud made of Aziraphale’s affection—wow. That was exceptionally sappy. It was like he was getting high on kissing. He didn’t think that was possible, but he vaguely knew something about hormones affecting the brain, but didn’t know the details.

Aziraphale pulled back. “I knew it,” he whispered.

“Huh?” Crowley grunted.

“I wouldn’t have been able to give this up.”

“Uh.” Crowley blinked slowly, and realized his irises were large and not very human-shaped.

“We would’ve been killed,” Aziraphale kissed his upper lip. “Hell would’ve destroyed you.”

Crowley’s mind was fuzzy. “Do we have to talk about that now?”

Aziraphale smiled a little. “I’m only saying that it’s over now, so we can do as we please.” He cupped his cheek, causing Crowley’s eyes to flutter shut briefly before he remembered himself. Aziraphale’s stare was intense. “You’re quite sensitive, aren’t you?”

“No—!”

“I love you,” Aziraphale spoke smoothly and stroked his cheek. He grinned, eyes sparkling. “Oh, that felt nice to get off my chest. I love you, Crowley.”

Crowley’s lip quivered, the gravity of his words smacking him in the chest. “You’re gonna discor-diskuh-kill me.” Aziraphale’s thumb brushed farther up his face, and why did his skin feel wet around his eyes? He sniffed, squinting. “You…”

Aziraphale’s lips on his were more of a nuzzle than anything else. “You darling devil.”

Later, he would suspect that it was the combination of the new term of endearment and the acceptance of exactly who he was which made Crowley lunge forward and clumsily smash their lips together. Aziraphale was startled for a second, but then relaxed and cradled the back of his head, shushing against his lips and turning the kiss less hurried. Their lips were already a little damp than before, and it felt different this time. Aziraphale kissed his mouth open and took his bottom lip into his mouth. He sucked lightly, causing Crowley’s shoulders to jerk. Why were lips so bloody sensitive? Aziraphale licked over his lips, tongue hotter than Crowley had anticipated. His breath hitched when that tongue slid into his mouth, meeting his tongue, and then retreated. Crowley became aware of the fact that he was getting hard. Damn, already? Even he knew they hadn’t done much of anything yet. It was difficult to self-conscious, though, when Aziraphale kept kissing him deeply, gentle hand on his cheekbone, their lips gliding wetly. Crowley was consumed by the comforting warmth Aziraphale was radiating. He didn’t know what humans were like, but kissing an angel was bloody fantastic.

Crowley made a protesting grunt when suddenly his lips met air.

Aziraphale was, oh fuck, he was gorgeous. The setting sun coming through the window lit up his curls and he had a rosy flush painted across his face. His eyes were smiling. He snapped his fingers.

“What’d you do?” Crowley asked.

“I never really sleep, so I just had to miracle a bed upstairs.” He wasn’t as overwhelmed as Crowley, but he wasn’t unaffected, either. His voice was rough and low, which Crowley found incredibly arousing. It was just like his wank fantasies. He should probably keep that information to himself.

“We could just stay here…”

Aziraphale stood up. “Nonsense.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Ugh, do I really have to get up?”

Aziraphale held out his hand. “We’re doing this properly.”

Crowley took his hand and pulled himself up, glad he wasn’t hard enough for it to have been visible much yet. They were really going to do this. He wasn’t hallucinating on mushrooms (he tried it once. Never again. Memories of visions from the pits of Hell did not mix well with hallucinogens). He was going to have sex. He was nervous, which was ridiculous, because he was thousands of years old. He saw and said and did so much during his time on earth. He shouldn’t have felt skittish about something as simple as sex.

“You okay?” Aziraphale asked, his eyebrows furrowing. “You know we don’t have to do this.”

Crowley groaned, “If you make me wait any longer, I’ll die.”

Aziraphale snorted. “Don’t be dramatic.”

Wanting to feel a little more in control, he snapped his fingers so they were both in Aziraphale’s apparently never-used bedroom. It was dusty and the furniture in the room was a tall lamp in the corner of the room. The bed itself was large with a thick white duvet and littered with plush pillows. Of course that was the bed he would miracle up. They would discuss decor later.

Aziraphale didn’t seem up for talking, either, because now he was kissing Crowley’s neck, hands on his hips and gently guiding him towards the bed. Crowley gasped, because having his neck kissed was a new brand of amazing. It made his brain short-circuit, and before he knew it, he was on his back with Aziraphale running his hands through his hair as he sucked. Was this a hickey? It felt like a hickey. He felt a twinge of jealousy at the idea of him giving hickeys to humans, but he never told humans he loved them, so Crowley won. He was being petty. The point was he was really getting hard now and he couldn’t focus. He cursed himself for wearing tight trousers because his cock was pressing insistently against his zipper. He couldn’t help it; Aziraphale’s open-mouthed kisses and sucking filled his veins with molten lava.

Their clothes came off as Aziraphale kissed his neck, ear, jaw, collarbone, and chest. Having a hot, insistent mouth on his chest was enough to bring him to full hardness. Crowley turned his face away, biting his lip with a moan because Aziraphale’s hands were trailing down his naked skin. Just being arse naked beneath him made him squirm and squeeze his eyes shut. He took pride in being fashionable, but he never considered what his body actually looked like much before, and yet Aziraphale was staring down at him hungrily, and Crowley couldn’t handle being looked at like that, or a fucking holy being having that expression to begin with. He gripped Aziraphale’s hair, holding his head against his chest. He hissed when he felt himself begin to leak as Aziraphale’s tongue worked his nipple.

“Why are nipples so fucking sensitive?” he wondered aloud.

Aziraphale chuckled. “Not sure, but I’m happy you enjoy it.”

Crowley was biting his lip hard enough to hurt, feeling eyes on his body.

“Look at me,” Aziraphale told him.

Crowley kept his eyes shut, his chest heaving from the kisses and the _ everything _. His skin must have been scarlet all over. There was no way he could stop blushing knowing Aziraphale could see his leaking cock. As if on cue, he felt a drip land on his stomach. Great, he was being betrayed by his body.

Aziraphale brushed back his damp fringe from his forehead. “Crowley? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

He shook his head and finally opened his eyes. He took in the sight of Aziraphale’s body, soft and flushed. He was hard, too, and Crowley’s mouth dropped open. Of course he’d look like a Renaissance painting of a naked cherub. Aziraphale would be angry if he told him that, though, because _ Principalities are not cherubs. Really! _

Aziraphale’s pink flush grew red at the tips of his ears. “Crowley? You’re staring. I asked if you’re uncomfortable?”

“No,” he said thickly. “No, sorry. I’m just. I don’t know how to, um, react.”

Aziraphale kissed the underside of his jaw, sympathetic. “As long as you’re okay, then react any way you want. You are okay?” he asked.

Crowley sat up and kissed him soundly. “I’m okay,” he murmured. “It’s just,” he laughed a little, “I never knew how sensitive these bodies are, you know?”

“I do,” Aziraphale said. “Hang on. You have done this before, yes?”

Crowley wanted to turn into a snake and slither away again. “I’ve wanked.”

A pause. “Oh.”

“Shut up!”

“So—”

Crowley put his finger on his lips. “Shush!” he hissed.

Aziraphale casually removed his finger. “I always assumed you did. Your jealousy makes even more sense now.”

“It’s not like I didn’t get offers,” he grumbled. “Humans are just dirty and I didn’t want ‘em seeing me all,” he waved his hand around, gesturing to his body. It was weird having a conversation while all the blood had gone from his brain into his cock. It wasn’t easy to focus.

“I understand.” Aziraphale considered him. He kissed his cheek. “I truly am happy you’ve let me see you this way, my dear. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

Crowley hissed at him.

Aziraphale was unfazed by that, but he did grow a tad shy. “For what it’s worth, I feel a little embarrassed right now, even though we’ve known each other 6,000 years.”

“Seeing each other’s junk is an embarrassing experience.”

“Yes,” he giggled. “Yes, it is. All of this is different with you.”

“Good different?”

Aziraphale took his hand and kissed one of his knuckles. “Of course.”

“Look, I’d love to chat more, but,” he looked down, “this isn’t going away.”

Aziraphale giggled some more. “Yes, quite right. Sorry, I’ve grown accustomed to ignoring my desires.” 

Before he could grumble some more, a moan was startled out of him when a hand was suddenly wrapped around his cock. He bucked into his hand, and moaned louder when Aziraphale’s thumb smeared the pre-come gathering at the tip. This was astronomically better than when he touched himself. It was wild seeing his cock in Aziraphale’s hand. Absolutely bonkers. 

Aziraphale’s pupils were blown wide. “Do you trust me?”

“Guuuhgh,” he moaned incomprehensibly, because that was all he could do while being jerked off. It wasn’t his fault.

Aziraphale kept stroking him lazily. “Use your words, please. I need to know for certain.”

He fought past the fog in his brain. “I trust you with anything,” he said.

Aziraphale smiled softly. “The feeling is mutual.”

That tugged on his heartstrings, because the only people who trusted him before had no idea of his true nature, but of course, Aziraphale did. 

Aziraphale considered him, breathing heavily and looking down. “You’re quite far along already. I may have to speed things along.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

Aziraphale looked up at him from under his lashes, apprehensive. “Well, I’ve imagined myself inside you.”

Crowley gasped and took his hand off his cock, because he was dangerously close to coming just by hearing that. “How can you say that so casually?!”

Aziraphale’s face fell. “Oh, I’m sorry. We don’t have to.”

Crowley laid down on his back, covering his flaming face with his hands. “That’s not what I meant. You gonna make me say it out loud?”

“Say what?”

He growled. “I want you to do it.” That was the closest he was going to get to saying _ “I want you inside me this instant.” _

“Ah. Considering our states of arousal, then we should get right to it.”

“We can if you stop talking,” he muttered into his hands.

“I don’t want to hurt you, so up for a miracle?”

“Whatever,” he said, because his erection was so hard it hurt. His jaw dropped when he suddenly felt very loose and wet in a place that usually didn’t feel that way. He dropped his hands onto the pillow under his head to gape at him. “E-efficient.”

He was sheepish. “I’ll do it properly next time, I promise, but you seem rather impatient and,” he let out a shuddering sigh, “so am I.”

Crowley’s pupils dilated, the thought of him struggling to maintain control unexpectedly hot. He watched as Aziraphale took a pillow and put it under his hips, and then lowered himself down, his forearms braced on either side of Crowley’s shoulders. He moved forward, nudging his entrance, looking him right in the eye. Crowley exhaled like he was punched in the back as Aziraphale’s cock slid against his inner walls. The preparation had been more than enough, and later he would tease Aziraphale over performing an arse miracle, but he was only capable of swearing now.

“What the fuck? What the fuck?” he repeated over and over. He needed something to do with his hands, so he grasped Aziraphale’s shoulders, digging his nails into his skin. It was like his insides were tingling with pleasure. It was overwhelming.

Aziraphale was fully seated inside him, staring down at him with hazy eyes like he was viewing God Herself.

Crowley felt his throat get tight by looking at that expression, feeling unworthy of it.

Aziraphale started moving then, and Crowley bit his lip hard to stifle a loud moan. It was absolutely surreal to watch Aziraphale’s brows furrow in pleasure and his swollen pink lips part to let out harsh breaths and quiet moans. He was gorgeous like this, more of a temptation than he could ever be. The sun was setting and bathed him in orange light. _ Why are you so perfect? _ Crowley thought. He whimpered every time Aziraphale pushed into him, his thrusts deep, but slightly unsteady as he trembled. He was emitting little _ mmm! mmm! mmm! _s, which was far sexier than he had any right to be. He was a picture of ecstasy.

It was like a pot of bubbling arousal was inside Crowley, just waiting to spill over with Aziraphale bringing him closer and closer to the edge. No one ever made him feel remotely like this, and it was almost torturous for his chest to be this constricted with affection after millennia of everyone else believing he shouldn’t feel this way. He loved Aziraphale with the essence of his soul, and if he didn’t need to claw into his shoulders, he would have covered his face again because it was all so much.

Aziraphale’s mouth was open as he panted, maintaining eye contact, and there was a rawness in his face. “Crowley.” The sunlight shining around him turned out not to be sunlight at all, but his own glow from inside his chest. He shifted and buried his hands in his hair, placing a sloppy kiss on his lips, licking inside and meeting his tongue. He pulled back and rubbed their noses together, his breath hot on his face.

Crowley squirmed, his legs wrapping around the back of his plump thighs and he tossed his head to the side with a loud _ Agh! _ as the thrusts got faster, moving his body up and down on the bed. His legs shook and he felt a hand on his chin.

Aziraphale turned his face to look at him, glowing still, and he kissed him again. He left his mouth and peppered kisses on his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and right on his snake tattoo, hand clumsily petting his hair. Crowley nearly felt worshipped, and his voice was scratchy when he moaned Aziraphale’s name, heart beating hard and fast. He felt like he was going to die from how hard he was, or from how much he loved Aziraphale. One or the other was going to kill him. But he didn’t care. This was the best he ever felt since he’d been tossed into the pool of boiling sulfur. “Azi—_ nuh_,” Crowley whined. “Aziraphale. This is—” He didn’t think he would ever have his bloody hair petted during sex, but the tenderness of it took his breath away. “I love you,” he blurted out. “My angel.”

Aziraphale lifted his face, the epitome of fondness. “I am yours,” he told him. He removed one of his hands from his hair and wrapped it around his cock. “So—” a small gasp. “You’re so easy to love.”

Crowley threw his arm over his eyes, crying out, the bubbling pot so close to spilling over. He needed to come or else he’d lose his mind. 

“You’re stunning right now,” Aziraphale thrust harder, voice growing deeper. “Beautiful.”

“_Fuck, _Aziraphale.” He was getting there. Almost, almost. 

“You love so deeply,” Aziraphale said after a groan. “De-despite it all.” His tone was amazed.

“I dunno know why She did this to me,” he babbled, hissing. “I dunno why She made me love you. It hurt so much,” he admitted, beyond the point of holding anything back. The glow from Aziraphale was palpable, warm and all-consuming, and he was going to fucking scream if he didn’t come soon. 

“Crowley, _ darling_,” he cried. “It’s okay now. You have me.”

Finally, the pot overflowed. His hand flew to his mouth as he shouted, “Angel!_ ” _ His cock pulsed and spurted all over their abdomens, and he was gone for a few long, divine moments in waves of toe-curling pleasure. He had no idea if he said anything or not. He could have been crying out his never-ending devotion to Aziraphale for all he knew. He could have been thanking him for loving him in a way not even God ever did. Or he could have been uttering an incomprehensible string of syllables. He would never know. He opened his eyes just in time to watch Aziraphale’s shut as a sharp gasp cut off in his throat, his body shaking, and then a long _ Ohhhh _left his lips and he spilled his release into Crowley. He ducked his head, breathing out of his mouth, and pulled out, collapsing next to Crowley, the glow dimming.

Crowley felt like he was in a trance. He was sleepy, his limbs falling by his sides like lead, and his brain was sluggish like he had drank 6 bottles of wine. He gulped for breath like a fish out of water.

When Aziraphale turned his face towards him, his eyes were shining. They stared at each other for a couple minutes, taking everything in, their breaths slowing. Crowley’s heart was full when Aziraphale yawned, scrunching up his nose like a cute rabbit.

“Your eyes,” Aziraphale spoke, turning on his side.

“What about them?” he rolled onto his side, too.

“Can’t see the whites. Your fangs are out, too.”

He hadn’t even noticed. “I’m too spent to do much about it.”

“That’s fine. You’re handsome.” He waved his hand and the mess on them was gone.

“D’you always glow when you have sex?”

Aziraphale smiled lazily. “No, that was new. I think that would have raised some questions with the humans.”

Crowley snorted. “Yeah.” 

Aziraphale leaned close to kiss him tenderly, unhurried and sweet. He caressed his hair and ended the kiss gradually. He kept their faces close. “That was extraordinary,” he whispered. “I don’t know why you can love, either, by the way, but I’m so grateful. Your love is a privilege.” 

Crowley melted. He was never going to stop blushing, was he? “Bastard.” He winced. “Sorry. That’s just a habit.”

A honey-sweet smile was pulling Aziraphale’s lips up. He was still stroking his hair. “It’s okay, I know how you work.” He sighed quietly. “To think you thought I was repulsed by you. I had to spend years away from you so I wouldn’t touch you and put us both in danger.”

“Am I sexier than the men in the 1800s?” he tried to joke, but he just sounded stupid and he grimaced.

“Yes,” he answered seriously. “No one can possibly compare.” His fingertip traced the snake tattoo. “Listen. We don’t agree on everything, Crowley, but I’m very much in love with you. Don’t ever think otherwise. You have me permanently.” A flash of nervousness came across his face. “If you want this to be permanent.” 

Crowley swallowed past the lump in his throat, melting further. “You’re an idiot. I _ obviously _want this to be permanent.”

He sighed with relief. “Good. Millennia of doubt is difficult to shake.”

“You’re telling me.” He wasn’t made to deal with so much emotion in such a short amount of time. He turned his face and saw the sun setting out the window. “So much has happened. I thought you were dead this time yesterday,” he murmured, “and now we’re here. Seriously, how are you not reeling like I am?”

“A part of me is,” Aziraphale said, “but once I knew I was free to be with you, loving you has come very naturally to me.” 

Crowley smiled because this all finally sunk in. This was going to be their life now. Aziraphale knew all of his flaws but chose him anyway. He replayed what Aziraphale told him during sex. He never thought anyone would think he was easy to love. He was inexplicably lucky. He held back a giddy giggle, because that would have been lame. “Shoulda known you’d recite poetry.”

“It’s not poetry.” He yawned again. “Goodness, I never felt this tired before.”

“You got discorporated and fucked in a day.” He grabbed the blankets and pulled them up. “You’re gonna be with me? Let me introduce you to the wonderful indulgence of sleep.”

Aziraphale eyed him warily. “I don’t know. I’ve rarely done it. It’s a waste of time.”

Feeling a little brave, Crowley wrapped his arms around his soft middle. He was like a teddy bear. His heart felt like warm goo. “We don’t have work to do anymore, remember? You’ll feel good, I promise,” Crowley murmured.

Aziraphale grinned. “Promise you won’t punch me.”

“Never!”

“You’re sweet.”

Crowley turned into a snake and hissed loudly.

Aziraphale yawned in his face. “How spooky.”

Crowley turned back into a human and muttered under his breath. “I don’t regret calling you a bastard earlier.” He hugged him again. Damn him for being so soft and warm and teddy-bear-like.

Aziraphale closed his eyes. “If I find this unpleasant, I’m blaming you.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “I’ll go to sleep, too. It’ll be fine.”

“Fine.”

Crowley was tired, but he stayed awake for awhile and watched Aziraphale instead. He was confident now that he was the only person (or supernatural being, whatever) Aziraphale ever loved, but he still felt smug at the thought that no human ever got to lie with him and sleep. That was his privilege and his alone, and on top of that, no one else would ever touch him again. Take that, humans. Crowley watched with adoration at how his features turned completely slack, not a trace of alertness or tension there for the first time in millennia, and his lips parted. He breathed deeply, his eyes moving under the lids. What did angels dream about? He would ask him later. Aziraphale’s body turned warmer in slumber and his slow, even breathing was lulling Crowley to sleep. He glanced up at the ceiling. _ God, what the fuck? _ he asked silently. _ Why did you let me have him? Not complaining, but if you take him away, you’re even worse than I thought. So. Don’t do that. _ He stopped praying, but raised an eyebrow. He wondered...could he pray to Aziraphale? He never tried. He focused: _ Aziraphale? _

He didn’t stir.

_ Angel. It’s me, your devilishly handsome lover. Anyway, sleep tight. Just telling you I love you. _

Aziraphale’s parted lips twitched up into a smile and he hummed.

Crowley closed his eyes and held him closer. If he didn’t go to sleep now, his heart would give out. His breathing fell into sync with Aziraphale’s, and in a few days, he would die of embarrassment after he woke up drooling on his chest, but he was blissfully unaware of that for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're such a joy to write.
> 
> If you liked this, please check out my [other Good Omens fics!](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=575567&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&commit=Sort+and+Filter&user_id=LollipopCop)
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